Taming the Highlander: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Novel

by Fiona Faris

  "An’ did ye see his table manners," James continued, coloring along with his father at Siusan's reference to her breasts," once the lasses brought more ale? More food an’ drink ended up in the oaf's beard an’ mustache than in his stomach. An’ the belching...”

  "One o’ the poor lassies came tae me afterward in floods of tears, complaining that he had groped her backside," Siusan added.

  "I did no’ see that," James said, his nose wrinkling with disgust, "else I would hae slit his gizzard fer misusing one o’ oor clanswomen like that."

  Angus suddenly slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, causing everyone to jump and fall silent.

  "Will the pair o’ ye just haud yer wheesht?" he shouted. "So, the man is uncouth; whit o’ it? So, he's fond o’ the lassies; I cannae find fault with that in a man." He glowered at James from beneath his bushy black eyebrows. "I often wish that ye would show yerself a wee bit fonder o’ the lassies. I wonder, sometimes, if ye an’ that Cailean Campbell are no’ a wee bit tae thick together..."

  "Angus!" Shona sputtered. "Whit a thing tae say tae the lad!"

  "Well..." Angus grumbled. "The important thing is no’ Uilleam MacGregor’s manners but whit he had tae say aboot the Campbells an’ their intentions."

  "An’ whit aboot the MacGregors an’ their intentions?" James countered. "They ken fine that the Campbells would put an end tae their banditry, so o’ course they will want tae turn us against them. But if we fly with the crows, we will die with the crows; if we were tae throw in oor lot with the MacGregors, then we would suffer the same fate as them. It would be the end o’ the Gunns in Glen Orchy. An’ all fer the sake o’ letting the MacGregors continue tae steal oor cattle."

  Angus drew in a heavy sigh.

  "But whit if the alternative is tae be swallowed up by the Campbells? That would be the end o’ the Gunns in Glen Orchy tae. If oor fate is sealed, would it no’ be better, more honorable, tae go down fighting than tae end up as the Campbells' lapdog?"

  James shook his head as if he could not believe the breadth and the height of his father's pigheadedness.

  "Cailean has assured me that the Campbells hae no designs on Glen Orchy. They merely want us tae no’ oppose them in the ridding o’ the country o’ something that is a thorn in both oor sides."

  "An’ ye believe him?"

  "Aye, I do. Unlike the MacGregor, the Campbell is an honorable man. Unlike the MacGregor, he has never shown himself tae be unworthy o’ oor trust. The Campbell will stand by his assurances."

  Angus barked out a laugh.

  "Ah, James, lad, ye are sich an innocent wee pup, still wet behind the ears. Do ye really believe that the Campbells would go tae the great expense o’ building a mighty fortress tae command the three glens, just tae get rid o’ a skiddly wee clan o’ cattle thieves? Fer if ye do, ye are dafter than ye look. No, I'm inclined tae think that it might well be more politic tae join with the MacGregors in resisting the growing power o’ the Campbells in the land, than tae run the risk o’ becoming a client that the Campbells could subsequently pick off in due course, as that power continues tae grow at the expense o’ their smaller neighbors. In fact, if we could forge an alliance o’ those smaller clans, we might well see the Campbells off an’ preserve oorselves entire, which would be the happiest o’ all possible outcomes."

  James looked at him aghast.

  "Ye cannae be serious," he said after a pause. "Ye would gamble joining ruffian smaller clans against the mighty Clan Campbell an’ incurring its wrath? As ye would surely do were ye tae break yer pledge now an’ marry yer daughter instead tae that... that... animal?"

  "Aye, I would, an’ gladly," Angus returned. "Agreeing tae a marriage alliance with the Campbells only oot o’ fear reeks o’ cowardice an’ intimidation, an’ I will no’ be bullied or intimidated."

  Siusan had fallen silent during the last exchange and followed it with increasing despair. She knew that it was only the way of the world, but she could not help but feel the injustice of it all, her fate being decided without any reference whatsoever to her own wishes. She could not help but feel that she was nothing but a passive victim in all of this, a pawn rather than the captain of her own destiny.

  She knew little of the politics of their little corner of the world in Argyll. All she knew was that she could never be happy with either Cailean Campbell or Uilleam MacGregor.

  She also knew that she would have little say in the matter.

  Chapter Seven

  Inveraray Castle

  Two days later

  Two days later, Cailean and James were drinking a fine Bordeaux in Cailean's private apartments at Inveraray Castle. It was evening; a log was burning brightly in the grate, and the dark ruby, almost black, wine caught and held the flickering yellow light in the thick glass goblet.

  James took in his opulent surroundings and let out a sigh of envious satisfaction. Cailean's rooms were well-appointed in the most modern style. The walls were paneled in soft pastel-colored wood. Sumptuous wall hangings, embroidered with gold and silver thread, bedecked three walls of the cabinet room in which they sat, while the fourth was dominated by a white-pillared marble fireplace in which lay a long wrought-iron grate.

  James stroked the lush velvet upholstery on the arm of his chair and felt the cosseting warmth of the fire on his face. The crackle of the logs and the ticking of the ornate cabinet clock on the mantelpiece were the only sounds to be heard in the room. The absence of any disturbance from the rest of the castle was noticeable and impressive. James felt that the world and its troubles were a thousand miles away, which was, he reflected, precisely the effect that the castle design had been aimed at when it had been built by the rising aristocrats in Argyll.

  He looked across at his host, who lounged in the matching armchair on the other side of the fireplace. Cailean was just as richly elegant as the rooms in which they sat. Dressed in his customary breacan trews and dark blue doublet, he exuded charm and confidence and sophistication as he savored the silky smoothness and subtle notes of his fine wine, a small smile of contentment settled on his thin, well-shaped lips. His pale blond, almost white hair was closely clipped, and his clean-shaven cheeks and chin gleamed with his favorite violet perfume, a distillation of dried orris root.

  James was also filled with a deep sense of comfort and satisfaction. He could, he reflected, become accustomed to living like this, which was another reason for him to cultivate Cailean's friendship. He also could not see how Siusan could have any reservations about marrying Cailean when all this luxury could be hers.

  He stretched out his legs and basked in the comfort of his surroundings. He wanted nothing more than to be able to live like Cailean, in cultured comfort. The seat of Clan Campbell, on the shore of Loch Fyne, was more palace than castle and rivaled even the lowland palaces of the King in style and grandeur. This, or a more modest imitation of it, was to what James Gunn aspired; the spare spartan lifestyle of a minor clan chief like his father was something that held much less appeal for him, and the forging of a close affinity between the Gunns and the Campbells through his sister's marriage to Cailean was the road by which he would improve the fortunes of his clan.

  But now there was this damned proposal by the MacGregors, a proposal of marriage between the Gunns and the MacGregors that would wreck James' dreams for the future, a proposal that his father looked increasingly likely to accept.

  The MacGregors could not be allowed to prevail.

  Cailean broke into James' thoughts. "So, whit is this matter on which ye wish tae consult me?"

  James looked up with some apprehension. Now had come the moment of truth; how would Cailean react to the news? Would he offer a practical solution, or would he wash his hands of the whole affair and look elsewhere for a bride, leaving the Gunns undone to their fate?

  "No’ long after ye left Clyth the other day," he began, choosing his words with great care, "we received a visit from Uilleam MacGregor."

  Cailean sneered. "T
hat rascal! An’ whit did he want? Tae see whit he could filch, no doubt."

  James laughed and gave a nervous smile.

  "Actually, he had come seeking Siusan's hand in marriage."

  It was Cailean's turn to laugh. He wrinkled his nose in scorn.

  "I trust ye sent the cur home with his tail between his legs."

  James hesitated. He dreaded uttering his next words.

  "A-actually, that's the thing," he stammered. "My faither is considering the proposal."

  Dark clouds of anger began to mass behind Cailean's narrowed eyes.

  "He is whit?"

  "I'm sure he is just observing propriety an’ did no’ wish tae cause his old friend, Iain, offense by rejecting the proposal oot o’ hand," James hurried to reassure Cailean, "but he has promised the MacGregors he will give it due consideration. An’ even if he were minded tae accept it, I am confident that he could be easily talked oot o’ it."

  "Consider it?" Cailean muttered, his tone like distant thunder. "I am amazed an’ disappointed that he would even consider it. Does he no’ realize that a promise has been made? Yer sister an’ I are betrothed. She has already been pledged tae me. Whit is there tae consider?"

  "My sentiments exactly, an’ I made them clear tae him in conference after the MacGregor chiel left. There can be no question—"

  "An’ yet, there is a question." Cailean’s voice whipped into a fury. "The deal was concluded. Yer sister was given tae me. How dare ye even countenance sich a proposal?"

  "But, Cailean," James protested weakly, "I am countenancing nothing. As far as I am concerned, ye an’ my sister are affianced, withoot question, an’ ye will be married in due course. It's jist... my faither—"

  "Yer faither is a turd," Cailean shouted, leaping to his feet. "An’ ye are the son o’ a turd. It matters no’ whit yer opinion is, nor how ye are disposed. It is the Gunns who are defying an’ insulting me in this, an’ ye are a Gunn. Ye are showing yerself tae be as devious an’ untrustworthy as the thieving MacGregors..."

  "That is no’ fair."

  "Fair?" Cailean cast his goblet into the fireplace. "Whit is no’ fair aboot it? Yer bitch sister is my property. Or is as good as, as soon as I hae set my seed in her. If ye cannae be trusted with my property but would pawn it off tae the next man who would give ye a better price fer it, then it seems that I must take it intae my own protective custody." He raised his chin. "Ye will deliver yer sister up tae me in the next day or two, or ye will be deemed tae have broken oor agreement."

  James' blood ran cold.

  "An’ believe ye me," Cailean added in a low, threatening tone, "if ye break oor agreement, ye will suffer grievously."

  Later the same evening, Cailean's father, Neil, Chief of the Clan Campbell, paid a visit to Cailean's apartments. As he strode into Cailean's cabinet room, he found Cailean brooding alone by the fire, an empty wine bottle overturned on the floor at his feet, his elbow propped on the arm of the chair, his head resting on his fist.

  Neil felt a stab of impatience in his gut. What was peeving the boy now, he wondered. He had never known a body to sulk as much when it did not get its own way. That was the trouble when you had everything handed to you on a platter, he reflected; you grew up with a sense of entitlement. When he was young, Neil had been obliged to fight for each and every advantage that had come his way. He had not inherited from his father the power and influence that Cailean would inherit from him. Whenever he, Neil Campbell, had failed to get what he wanted, he only had himself to fault; there had been no one onto whom he could shift responsibility for any misfortune or setback he experienced. He had not been able to console himself with the easy excuse that he was a 'victim' who had been ‘hard done by’. If Cailean was moping over something, then the lad had ultimately only himself to blame; he would get no sympathy from his father.

  Neil went and stood with his back to the fire, hitching up the kilt of his traditional belted plaid to warm his behind.

  "Was that yon Gunn chiel from Glen Orchy that I jist saw leaving the castle?"

  Cailean raised his eyes lazily.

  "Aye," he replied. "It was."

  Neil harrumphed and nodded in acknowledgment of the confirmation of his suspicion.

  "An’ who was it put the burr down the back o’ his breeks?" he pursued. "He had the look o’ a man who had the De'il himself on his tail."

  Cailean rose unsteadily to his feet. His foot caught the empty wine bottle and sent it spinning across the floor. He quickly composed himself and smiled thinly at his father.

  "It would seem that the Gunns hae had a visit from the MacGregors, an’ that the MacGregors hae made a proposal for the Gunn wench. The old fox, Angus, is currently 'considering' that proposal."

  "He is whit?" Neil bristled. "He would break his pledge tae us?"

  Cailean let out a long breath, brushing his fingertips over the back of his chair.

  "According tae James, it is unlikely that he will."

  Neil snorted. "Aye, but he still has the audacity tae consider doing so." Neil fixed his son with a challenging glare. "So, whit do ye propose tae do aboot it?"

  "I am going tae fetch the wench here. She is all but my wife an’ bringing her here will prevent the MacGregor chiel from laying his filthy thieving hands on her. James Gunn is thick with me in this. The insult we deliver tae Angus Mor in snatching custody o’ his daughter from under his nose will be punishment enough fer him."

  Neil smiled and nodded as if he were sampling a glass of fine wine.

  "Aye," he said. "He will take that sorely. But why involve the Gunn laddie? Why don't ye jist take a party o’ men an’ seize her by force? That would hurt Angus Mor's pride even more, being seen tae be tae weak tae even defend his own daughter."

  "Because James will be the next chief o’ Clan Gunn, an’ it will do no harm tae train him tae be my creature. This, tae, will let him ken his proper place, as my lackey. Remember, Faither, in marrying the Gunn baggage, we are seeking no’ so much an alliance with the Gunns, as between equals, than tae absorb them intae oor growing empire. I want James Gunn tae be my man rather than his own."

  Neil let out a hearty laugh and clapped his son firmly on the shoulder.

  "That is a plan worthy o’ yer faither's son," he congratulated him. "But I wonder… The Gunn bitch is by all accounts a fine-looking woman, eminently beddable. Do ye no’ hae any feelings fer her in all o’ this?"

  Cailean stared back at his father uncomprehendingly.

  "I find yer question odd," he remarked, genuinely nonplussed. "I am marrying her fer advantage, an’ no’ fer the sake o’ any feelings I might hae fer her. I hae no need o’ her otherwise. I can satisfy my needs with any wench I choose; I do no’ need tae keep one especially fer the purpose."

  Neil let out another laugh, but this one was less hearty and more uneasy.

  Sometimes, his son disturbed him with his coldness.

  Chapter Eight

  Clyth Castle

  Some days later

  Several days later, Siusan was in the stables of Clyth Castle, grooming Oighrig.

  Oighrig was a placid creature; she trusted Siusan and could be depended upon to stand still while she was being groomed by her mistress. It was a different story when it came to anyone else; under another groom's hands she would shuffle her feet and shift around and, for safety, would have to be tethered to the side of her stall with a rope.

  Siusan began by running her hand down Oighrig's leg and gently squeezing the tendon. This was the signal for Oighrig to lift her hoof. Using a hoof pick, Siusan started at the heel of the foot and picked forward to the toe, carefully removing all the dirt and debris that had lodged there. Siusan knew that picking Oighrig's hooves out before riding was essential to reduce the risk of lameness. As a child, she had been well-instructed by her father’s groom.

  Next, she took a curry comb to remove loose hair from the horse. Oighrig snorted contentedly as Siusan made vigorous, small circular motions over her muscles, takin
g care when she passed it over the bony areas of her face, spine, and legs. Siusan worked her way methodically from Oighrig's neck to her barrel, and all the way to her rump.

  Siusan chuckled as Oighrig made a funny face, pushing her lips away from her long yellow teeth, and tried to groom her back. Siusan became wary as Oighrig wiggled her nose at her; she knew fine that horses groomed one another by nipping each other. Oighrig did not understand that her ‘grooming’ could hurt her mistress, that Siusan’s skin was much thinner than hers. Siusan pushed Oighrig’s nose away, knowing from the mare’s response that she had found a particularly itchy spot, and gave her a good scratch.

  She then used a hard brush to take off the dirt and hair brought out by the curry comb. By this time, Oighrig's coat was really beginning to gleam. Siusan started at her neck and worked towards the tail, brushing in short, straight, flicking motions to allow the bristles to get all the way through the coat and whisk the dirt out. She then went over her again with a soft brush.